Page 103 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
"Promise," Crispin said, his voice betraying a smile in spite of his solemn expression. They had become fast friends, and Crispin was going to miss him more than he expected.
When they finally drove away, the whole family was waving from the gate, Dana crying openly, her apron soaked.
Aria didn't speak for most of the journey.
The drive back to London was long, punctuated by frequent stops.
Crispin had charted every service station with obsessive precision, reviewing routes and amenities like a man preparing for a military operation. Aria hadn't even needed to ask; he simply pulled over every hour, sometimes sooner, never commenting, just quietly opening her door and asking if she needed water, or snacks, or wanted to stretch her legs.
She hated that she was grateful.
But what she couldn't hate or ignore was that Crispin had changed beyond recognition.
The world had transformed while they'd been tucked away by the sea.
October had set the countryside on fire. Everywhere she looked, the trees were aflame. Rich golds, burning yellows, copper-bronze, and blood reds. The woodlands lining the motorway glowed like embers in the soft grey light. Some trees looked dipped in paint while others were already half bare, their leaves scattered like confetti across the road verges and fields.
Even through the fatigue, the cramps, the gnawing dread of the weeks ahead, Aria couldn't help but stare.
The hills were brushed with ochre and the hedgerows lit with crimson. It was as though the earth was shedding its old skin in a burst of colour like there was something beautiful in the act of letting go.
Each time they stopped, the air smelled of mulch and cold bark and bonfires in the distance.
She kept the window open just a crack for the scent but had to close it on the motorway.
It felt like a season winding down but also like a new beginning.
And beside her, Crispin never rushed her. He let her sit as long as she needed at each stop. He walked her to restrooms, he carried her coat. And when they were back on the road, he'd check on her often, watching her as if to say, "You okay?"
The car drove down a quiet road right unto the cul-de-sac. The house was beautiful in that distinctly understated, old-money way. It was Georgian-inspired, pale brick with white picture windows and two sets of stone steps leading up to the front door. The double garage sat to the side.
Inside, it was a blank canvas.
Most of the rooms were empty, echoing with every step. Only two were semi-furnished-the kitchen, with its warm-toned granite countertops and slightly overcompensating espresso machine; and the master bedroom, which had a hastily assembled sleigh bed and one velvet armchair that Crispin claimed was "excellent for brooding."
They were both bone-tired by the time the boxes were stacked in hallways and the takeout dishes cleared. Aria could barely keep her eyes open as she folded herself into the corner of the new velvet armchair in their bedroom, the fabric brushing her bare calves, her breathing already slowing with the pull of sleep.
Crispin noticed before she did.
"Come," he said gently, pulling her to her feet. "You're about to pass out."
"I'll shower in the morning," she mumbled, but he was already guiding her through to the ensuite, his hand warm at her lower back.
The bathroom was beautiful-sun-drenched by day, now lit with warm sconces that threw soft gold across the marble tiles. A clawfoot tub stood beside the wide window overlooking the garden, and a glass-enclosed power shower steamed faintly in anticipation.
Aria stood in the centre of the room, eyes half-closed.
And then she felt the slow, deliberate movement of his fingers at her buttons, one by one.
Her eyes fluttered open. "I can do it," she murmured, a note of protest in her tone.
"Let me," he said softly. "Please. I haven't seen you like this."
Her pulse thudded in her throat.
She'd been dreading this-the moment he'd see the full truth of what her body had become. The soft swell of her belly. The mottled roadmap of stretch marks at her hips and thighs. The heaviness in her breasts. The undeniable alterations.
She turned her face slightly away, but he didn't stop.
